1 - 20 of 36 Works by dandelionclouds
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“Akashi! Thank you! I would have been totally screwed without your help.”
“It’s…” Keiji starts to correct him, then realizes it isn’t worth the effort. There’s no point dragging out a conversation with someone he knows he’s never going to see again. He gives the patron a small nod and says, “It’s fine. I’m just doing the job they pay me to do.”
“And now I know who to ask for the next time I come in!” The patron grins at him, hands resting proudly on his hips, and Keiji takes another half-step back. “Bokuto Koutarou, by the way.”
“Okay.”
BREAKING: PUBLIC LIBRARIAN WONDERS WHY HOT MAN KEEPS COMING IN TO MAKE HIS JOB HARDER.
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it's just another graceless night by dandelionclouds
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
21 Dec 2025
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The stranger starts to walk around him then, back towards the dancing and the music and to someone who is most definitely not Ilya. Ilya knows he should let him go, but the thrumming underneath his skin has yet to subside, and his senses are heightened by the alcohol beginning to settle in his stomach and the unchanging fact that he needs to get laid.
It’s the sum of his poor decisions that causes him to put a hand out in front of the stranger to stop him from leaving and say, “I know you. You’re the one who does the commercials, yes? Without your clothes?”
This time, it’s the stranger who says, “What?”
or, the one where Ilya needs to get laid and Shane just happens to be at the right place at the right time.
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He hears movement on the other end. Footsteps. A door being pushed open. Then, it’s Bokuto’s heavy breathing loud in Keiji’s ear as he starts fast-walking across whatever part of campus he’s on. He sounds all-too excited telling him, “Stay where you are. Right where you are. Don’t move.”
Keiji reaches underneath his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Bokuto-san…” he says with whatever remains of his composure. “You don’t own a car.”
Bokuto and Akaashi, forty-eight hours until exam week begins.
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Keiji studies the hands still fidgeting in his lap. “I, uh… I’ve never actually hooked up with someone before. I’m not sure I understand the… protocol.”
“You could practice with me.”
“Sorry?” His head snaps up. His posture straightens. He waits for the moment when Bokuto’s serious expression breaks and they can both joke about the prospect of the two of them sleeping together as nothing more than that: a joke.
It never comes.
Convinced the reason his relationships don’t last is because of his performance in bed, Akaashi Keiji accidentally enlists his roommate to help him “improve” his skills. Completely platonically, of course.
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“I’m not the only one wearing a jersey with your name on it.” He says it carefully, acutely aware of Bokuto’s socked foot pressing against his, the way Bokuto’s eyes linger the longest on his lips before slowly moving back up to study the rest of him. “You said it yourself that you’re up to third in sales. The only difference is that I didn’t have to pay for mine.”
“It is different.”
“Is it?”
Bokuto nods. “It makes me feel different.”
In which Bokuto finally decides to act on how the sight of Akaashi in his jersey makes him feel.
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Now, he picks up Dazai’s bottle of cheap wine before taking a seat in one of the chairs. Dazai settles into the other, and for a moment, it feels like they’re teenagers again. Less bloodied and bruised, but still existing with an atypical calm Chuuya has never been able to replicate with anyone else. He runs his thumb over the label and asks, “No glasses?”
Dazai sighs, melodramatic and familiar. “Leave it to Chuuya to find fault with my gift.”
When I watch the world burn, all I think about is you.
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For a moment after, Chuuya contends with whether or not the man standing in front of him is real. It’s possible, he thinks, taking stock of the stranger’s warm brown eyes and similarly shaded hair, of the bandages peeking out from underneath the collar of his oversized gray crewneck, that this is all a test—that the universe wants to see just how far it can push him before he concedes. Resigns himself to a reputation he might actually deserve.
When he blinks twice and the stranger doesn’t disappear, he narrows his eyes to say, “You don’t know me,” with all the intonation of a threat. “Besides, asshole, they check IDs at the door.”
“I don’t? Are you not Nakahara Chuuya? The tennis player that lost today?”
A one-night stand after a humiliating loss comes back to haunt him when Chuuya learns that the man he slept with is a member of an up-and-coming player’s coaching team.
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have you ever tried this one? by dandelionclouds
Fandoms: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
11 Dec 2024
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He readjusts his grip on Dazai’s shirt, now using both hands, and glares up at him with seven years’ worth of loathing. “This isn’t… I’m not…”
“It’s not?”
Chuuya yanks on his shirt again and thrusts his body forward, wanting Dazai to feel every bit of the verbal onslaught he’s prepared to give. The sounds of his protest, though, become insignificant when he registers the noise Dazai lets out in response to their proximity. An added weight presses against his abdomen. He doesn’t look down, doesn’t step back—not until he hears Dazai say, “The bed would be easier, you know. Your legs are too short.”
In which Chuuya discovers the unintended consequences of trying to stop Dazai from breaking into his apartment.
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He takes a step closer, enough that his knee presses into Kenma’s sweatpant-covered thigh, and gives a cheery, “Hold still!” before bringing the comb up to begin parting his hair.
Kenma has to stop himself from letting out an involuntary sigh in response.
Because, the thing is, Shouyou’s gentle. Not hasty or overzealous in the way he guides the comb through Kenma’s hair, but careful. He works with a quiet efficiency so unlike the boisterous force that had barged through the front door some two hours before, a plastic shopping bag full of snacks hanging off his arm and a, “Your place was closer and cheaper than trying to catch a train back home. Mind if I stay the night?” barely out of his mouth before he’d found a piece of furniture to flop onto.
“As long as you clean up your mess,” Kenma had said, already reaching for the bag of snacks to arrange them around the low table in the center of the room (and knowing that, even without an excuse, he would have let Shouyou in).
The inherent intimacy of having someone help you touch up your roots.
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Chuuya’s tired and pissed off and wants to go home. The last thing he cares about is how loud he’s being when he leans in a little closer to Dazai and asks, “Also, what the hell was that back there?”
“Huh?”
“Before I shot you, when you were droning on and on for that jackass’s sake. You said that we were fated to something. What’d you mean by that?”
He expects a clever quip or an easy deflection, something just aggravating enough to rile him up until he’s yelling about things that don’t matter—whatever point he’d been trying to make now long gone.
What he gets instead is silence.
indelible • (adj.) - impossible to eliminate, forget, or change.
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Oh, Keiji keeps to himself this time.
He could be fine about it.
He could be cool about it.
There are a number of things Keiji could do in the aftermath of learning his roommate, his best friend, heard him moaning his name (and everything that came with it) from the other side of the bathroom’s locked door. What he settles for is a firm nod of his head and saying, “Great,” the same way someone might announce, “I stepped in dog shit on my way to work today.”
or, Akaashi Keiji and the Mortifying Ordeal of Learning Your Best Friend Heard You Moaning His Name.
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There’s a recent withdrawal for 1860 yen at the top of his account—just charged, less than an hour before. He reads the same string of numbers over and over, convinces himself it’s just his sleep-deprived eyes playing tricks on him, that there’s no way he actually spent almost 2000 yen on a single cup of coffee.
He startles at the sound of Bokuto asking, “You okay, Hinata?”
Then, as clarity reaches him with miserable force, Hinata holds his phone out for his roommates to see and exclaims, “THAT JERK CHARGED ME FOR FOUR DRINKS?!”
“You should demand a refund,” Atsumu says. “Or, that he gets fired.”
It’s Sakusa who adds, “Should be both.”
or, three times Kageyama gets Hinata's order wrong (+ the one time he gets it right).
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For a moment, curled up on the couch together, watching Dazai blow his nose, watching him adjust and readjust the blanket to maximize his warmth, Chuuya lets himself forget. Everything feels so normal. Here, now, they don’t look like the most infamous duo of the Yokohama underground. The same Double Black that wiped out an entire enemy organization overnight. In the privacy of Chuuya’s apartment, they’re two teenagers, one taking care of the other—not because of a mission gone wrong or an overzealous sparring session ending with scrapes and bruises, but because Dazai has something as inconsequential as the common cold. And Chuuya wants to help.
In this temporary reality, one so different from their own, he might have even thought them friends.
This thought, Chuuya tries to shrug off, too.
When Dazai gets sick, Chuuya makes it his problem.
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At the sight of him, Chuuya expects some baiting comment about how long he lasted. He braces himself for it, a comeback idling on his tongue. To hear Dazai say then, in a voice dangerously low, “I have an idea,” is a shock. The light returning to his eyes does nothing to ease Chuuya’s growing sense of apprehension.
“What kind of idea?”
“That.”
Chuuya follows Dazai’s now-pointed finger to watch what’s happening on the TV, and thinks to himself, a bit naively, Huh. Now there’s an idea. The rest of his thoughts remain muddled—teetering on the illogical and irrational that Dazai always manages to draw out of him, made worse by his post-sex high. It’s impulse, then, that causes him to sit up and say, “The bedroom probably has the lowest ceiling.”
Forgetting the nature of their abilities, Dazai and Chuuya attempt the Spider-Man Kiss.
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operation topknot by dandelionclouds for seda
Fandoms: Chainsaw Man (Manga), Chainsaw Man (Anime)
20 Jul 2023
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As soon as he gets his ice cream, he’ll go home. He’ll lean against the railing that encloses his fourth story balcony with a cigarette in-hand and enjoy a single hour of alone time before his roommates come barging through the door with jabs about his gullibleness already stashed in their arsenal. He can picture it now—both the reprieve on the balcony and the carnage that’s sure to follow.
It’s a thought that lasts until he sees a pair of hands place something that is decidedly not a small vanilla cone in front of him. Aki looks up in preparation to scold his roommates for messing with him again, only to be silenced by a voice that doesn’t belong to either of them.
“Enjoy,” the newcomer says with little intonation.
Then, the world goes still.
or, three times Denji and Power try to set up Aki and Angel (+ the one time they don't have to try).
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Whatever Chuuya had expected Dazai’s response to be, it hadn’t been this: his name, spoken carefully, almost prayer-like. A devotional to a false god. Its echo roots him in place long enough to watch as Dazai removes the hat and sets it down on the mess of unmade bedding beside him. The expression he wears is different now, more serious—a look that’s mirrored in the way he reaches for Chuuya’s wrist, pulling him closer.
Trance-like, Chuuya goes.
He takes the half-step necessary to stand between Dazai’s now-parted legs, and feels a fraction of his anger subsiding at the familiarity of warm fingers finding the same patch of skin as before. Dazai’s other hand slips underneath the front of his t-shirt. It doesn’t reach his heart.
They’re on day five of a week-long stakeout when Chuuya’s forced to confront an undeniable truth.
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breakable heaven by dandelionclouds for hometosecond
Fandoms: ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
26 Feb 2023
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He makes it less than twenty minutes before he decides “fuck it” and gives in. With a hand that hasn't quite lost its tremor, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves his phone. Notifications from the group chat continue to pile up—the conversation having moved on to Haruichi sending a detailed summary of the money people owe him for purchasing their plane tickets and lodging. Kazuya notices that there’s a private message from Kuramochi interspersed among the rest.
He clicks on this one first, heart now in his throat.
[7:21 p.m.] Kuramochi Youichi
> Did you know about this?It's been nearly four years since the last time they've spoken when, for reasons that can only be guessed at, Miyuki and Kuramochi find themselves on an international vacation planned (but not paid for) by two of their old teammates.
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Being knocked down by a wave at five feels a lot like stumbling backwards at twenty-five. Hajime’s met by a force of nature that can’t be stopped—one he doesn’t want to stop, not after so many years of missing its embrace. He feels Oikawa’s arms wrap around his neck; a familiar “Hi, Iwa-chan” tickles his ear. Even now, Hajime’s unable to shake the nickname. He doesn’t mind it, though. It’s the first he’s heard it clearly since that day at the airport—when Oikawa had whispered a final “Bye, Iwa-chan” before disappearing amongst the throng of people like him. People whose lives were taking them elsewhere, taking them away.
Hearing the nickname in-person, and not from a shitty phone speaker across kilometers of ocean, reminds Hajime of where he is and who he’s with. He’d been foolish to worry, he knows now; distance hasn’t changed who they are. Hajime’s home, and Oikawa’s here with him.
He holds on a little tighter.
December 2019: unexpectedly and unbeknownst to Iwaizumi, Oikawa comes home after six and a half years away.
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kiss her once for me by dandelionclouds
Fandoms: SPY x FAMILY (Manga), SPY x FAMILY (Anime)
24 Dec 2022
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“I tried to teach Yuri when we were younger, the same way my mother taught me, but I don’t think he ever got it quite right.” Her shoulders give a small shake as she laughs to herself, likely recalling a memory from a life lived long ago. “It was always a tradition in my house to make them during the holidays, so I thought…I don’t know. I’m just— I’m glad I can pass this on to you and Miss Anya.”
Oh.
There’s something there, hiding in all the things she doesn’t say, that Twilight catches. An unspoken hope that he and Anya will have something to remember her by when their little charade ends. A piece of her that says I was here.
In which Yor teaches them how to make a meal from her childhood, Anya schemes, and Twilight realizes just how much this family means to him.
Series
- Part 2 of home is wherever i'm with you
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In 1913, Miya Osamu accompanies his mother and brother to the summer home of a wealthy family from Tokyo. It’s there that he meets Akaashi Keiji: the sole heir to the Akaashi family fortune and Osamu’s newest playmate. Their friendship is short-lived, however, when an accident on the Akaashi’s ride back to Tokyo leaves all but the family’s grandmother presumed dead.
Fourteen years later, Osamu accompanies his brother for another night of scamming the city’s well-to-do out of their spare change. It’s on that night that he meets a man who looks oddly familiar, oddly like the missing heir to the Akaashi family fortune.
or, an osaaka anastasia au.
[on hiatus]